


Flirting on the Battlefield

by Valkyrune



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-20 18:12:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17027553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valkyrune/pseuds/Valkyrune
Summary: Amelie Lacroix, or simply Widowmaker? Gabriel Reyes, or the terrorist known as Reaper? When the whole world chooses to see one side to each of our "villain's", they find comfort in those who see the real them. (I don't own the cover art or any of the characters, backstory, locations, etc. All rights reserved to the appropriate creators of such)





	1. The Story of the Widow

She was always considered beautiful, elegant. She was praised in her dancing, her violin and piano playing, and in her poise. Never did anyone care to notice her intelligence, acknowledge her thoughts. She was used to it.

She had met Gerard Lacroix at a young age, in college. She was studying the arts, with a minor in toxicology and venom immunochemistry. She had a certain fascination with the human body, both in its capabilities for movement and in what could bring it down. She had musings of making her studies in those fields her major, but, alas, Gerard thought it unsightly for a woman of her status.

Amelie Guillard, of the notable Guillard family, was always treated as a fragile artifact in a museum, only meant to be gazed upon. And Gerard knew this upon meeting her.

Systematically he'd raise her confidence, her affection for him, only to devastatingly crush her emotionally, crippling her self-esteem until she was desperate for him to build her back up. Throughout her college years and career as a ballerina in Paris, there was Gerard, behind her to point out every flaw in every pirouette. To note when she faltered, and to kiss her cheek with a reassurance that left her feeling indebted to him for loving someone as flawed as herself.

Upon their wedding day, she was so nauseous from fear, excitement, nervousness, and an aching feeling in her heart she couldn't quite discern, that she paced back in forth in her waiting room until blisters formed on her feet. She was used to it though, and persisted her wear on the rug. As the time came for her to waltz down the aisle, her anxiety spiked. What if she tripped? What if she didn't walk perfectly to her beloved Gerard? Oh, he'd be furious! He'd be sure to notice, he noticed everything she did. Amelie felt sick at the thought of disappointing him yet again. With one last look at herself in the mirror, she wondered why an accomplished, intelligent man like Gerard was marrying her. And then she walked to him.

Their marriage was picturesque, they were the most beautiful couple anyone had ever seen. No one could see what was behind the facade. After their nuptials, Gerard had revealed to Amelie that he was being scouted to join Overwatch, an up and coming organization tasked with the protection of the world. Amelie was overjoyed for her new husband, how proud she was for him. So at 22, she and her husband moved from their life in Paris, and from her career, all for his.

As work left a heavy burden on Gerard, his manipulations of Amelie grew more and more callous. He no longer gave her sweet surprises, no longer worked quite so hard at building her up after delivering a devastating blow to her psyche. It was a rapid decline in her mental health, and his own, until, finally, the day he struck her across the cheek.

Neither had seen it coming, and things grew quiet in the Lacroix household. Gerard was tentative with his remarks towards Amelie, at first, worried about what she may do, or, worse, what she may say to others. A month went by, and Gerard realized she was completely submissive and blamed herself for his actions against her. And it was then, in that moment of realization, that Gerard's cruelty amassed a deeper villainy.

The physical abuse worsened gradually, bruises appearing across Amelie's body in an array of pain. She grew meek, silent. Rarely speaking, rarely leaving her home at all.

No one saw what occurred behind closed doors, and no one suspected a thing.

When Overwatch held a Christmas Celebration, Gerard, of course, made his wife attend. She looked beautiful, red dress with mistletoe earrings, a sight to behold at the party. Gerard eagerly showed her off, pleased with his prize and how all envied him for her. It was then that Amelie first met many of the Overwatch members. She was so young, merely 23, and yet held such a maturity to her, such an intelligence and talent for conversation.

Ana Amari first took notice of her, eagerly ushering Amelie towards the tea table. "Hello dear, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Amelie was stunned, and smiled warmly towards the kind woman. "Finally? I had no idea Gerard talked about me to his coworkers." Her French accent was still quite heavy, and she looked towards her husband, who was conversing with a tall blonde man a ways away. He must care for her deeply to talk about her as such!

Ana narrows her eyes towards a darkened patch of skin just above the hem of Amelie's bodice, immediately identifying it as an old, healing bruise, messily and ineffectively covered in makeup. "Ah, yes..." She began to wonder about this picture perfect couple. "He often speaks of you as his 'little ballerina.'" A name, she was sure, was intended to be affectionate, but now reeked of condescension.

Amelie's eyes shone with glee at the news, her husband must love her! Yet as their conversation continued Ana noticed red flag after red flag, her fear and concern for the girl drawing out her motherly instincts. She had a daughter around Amelie's age, and just the thought of her own Fareeha going through anything like this was enough to draw Ana's blood to a boil.

She was going to speak to Jack about this.

At the sight of Gabriel, uncomfortable and standing up against the wall, avoiding any and all attention, Ana called out to him. "Gabriel, come over here and meet the lovely Amelie!"

He shuffled towards Ana and the woman with her, staring at her long black hair and golden eyes. As their gazes met, he halted for a moment, seeing something in her stare he recognized from his years in Blackwatch: pain, fear, and paranoia. He could physically she, she was a victim.

He held out a hand, eyes steadily trained on her for any semblance of disconcerting body language. "It's a pleasure, miss..?"

Amelie took his hand gently, giving a small smile up to the tall and intimidating man. "Lacroix. Amelie Lacroix... Gabriel?"

Ah... Lacroix. He should have known one of the new recruits Jack had personally hand-picked to join Overwatch would be married to a girl like her. Gerard Lacroix had a particularly aggravating quality to him, one of arrogance and perfection, with a white smile meant for toothpaste commercials, a jaw that could cut glass, and the most irritatingly small french mustache that Gabriel was half-tempted into recruiting his two proteges into helping him shave it off.

He forced himself to give a short chuckle in response to the woman's questioning tone. "Aha, yes, my name is Gabriel. Gabriel Reyes, Blackwatch Commander." He smirks, "I work closely with your husband sometimes, depending on the mission." And all Gabriel could say, was when Gerard slept, the devil probably rocked him.

"Gerard has mentioned Blackwatch before. He says it is... how to say... un trepidant...  _ah_ , busy, um... hectic?"

This time, his laughter is genuine, her expressions betraying her as she had stood there fumbling through her words, puzzlement and determination set in her brow as she had thought through her knowledge of the English language. "Heh, well Gerard is eyeing yet another promotion right now. The little fro-ahem... he's been moving up through the ranks pretty fast." Silently Gabriel reminded himself not to make any insults towards the french while in this woman's presence.

Amelie's expression grew solemn, and she looked off towards her husband, now awkwardly standing alone, watching with narrowed eyes as Ana spoke to the blonde man he himself had been speaking to.

"Gerard never really talks much about what  _he_  does in Overwatch." She was quick to stifle the sadness in her voice, and looked back up towards Gabriel. "I suppose he doesn't want me to worry."

And it's then Gabriel notices the bruise above her bodice. His blood fills with ice, his eyes hurriedly averting their gaze. Gerard Lacroix was many terrible things... but abusive to his own wife? Could Gabriel even picturing it?

He thought back to a meeting he had had with Gerard, discussing the terrorist group known as Talon, and their rising threat level. Lacroix wanted to use a poisonous gas on a known hideout of the group, even though it was in the very center of a populated city, and would have killed many civilians. 'Acceptable casualties to prevent a terrorist team from growing in strength!' Lacroix had yelled. 'Doing that would make  _us_  the terrorists!' Gabriel had argued back.

Oh, he could definitely see him as the abusive type.

Jack Morrison walks towards the two of them, a commanding air about him. As he stops upon the two, he gives a diplomatic smile to Amelie. "Hello, Amelie, my name is Strike Commander Jack Morrison. It's a pleasure to finally meet the woman behind the man," He holds a hand out to her, and Amelie accepts the handshake, slightly flustered.

"H-Hello, Mr.Morrison, sir." Her anxiety grows as she notices her husband watching them all intently, a dark and angered expression spreading across his face slowly. An expression that Gabriel doesn't miss.

As if noticing himself, Jack steps between Gerard's line of sight and Amelie, keeping his diplomatic smile firmly on his own face. "I simply had to meet the woman who inspired Lacroix's poison packs. They're quite remarkable, and he admitted it was a formula you had engineered in your college days."

Amelie's eyes widened in shock. Gerard used her formula? "R-Really? He... he always told me my studies were a bit foolish."

Gabriel forces himself to stay silent, tossing a glare towards Lacroix. Of  _course_ he had said that to her. The Blackfoot probably stole half his ideas from people he's put down.

Jack laughs and shakes his head. "Not at all! In fact, I was wondering if you'd like a commission from Overwatch. The formula's fantastic, however, we're looking for ways of incapacitating enemy agents without killing them, and that particular formula is very deadly and difficult to control.

Amelie gasps, "It's an incomplete formula!" Quickly she regains her composure, embarrassed and nervous. "Ahem... it... well it's not meant to be used, sir. It's long lasting, and in certain environments, the gas would actually grow in mass rather than dissipate. It's a terrible idea for a weapon."

Jack nods in agreement, "I couldn't have put it better myself. So can we count on you to perfect it? We here at Overwatch believe in a more humane approach to protection."

Amelie couldn't believe her ears. A chance to have a career again? And in toxicology nonetheless! Oh, she couldn't wait to ask Gerard if she could!

But Gerard was incredibly against this idea.

That night they argued, and for the first time, Amelie was defending herself, wanting more than anything to accept Jack Morrison's offer.

"Are you kidding me, Amelie?! I absolutely forbid it! I can't have you traipsing around my place of work,  _embarrassing_  me in front of my coworkers! I have my career to think about here! I can't allow you to give in to every ditzy little thought that enters your head!"

For once, Amelie was enraged towards Gerard. " _Ditzy_! Do you know what is 'ditzy?!' Using my incomplete formula in ' _poison packs_ ' where it could harm the general public!"

Gerard advances on his petite wife, grabbing her by the arms and pushing her against the wall. "Amelie, I  _absolutely forbid it_. Look, you want something to do? Let's have a kid. Would  _that_  shut you up for  _five minutes_  about your 'career?'"

Amelie winces in pain, his grip tight on her. Have a child? Somehow, she couldn't imagine raising a child. Not with him, not in this... this environment.

Gerard releases her, and Amelie sighs, "Gerard, I won't accept the offer. However,  _you_  must come up with an excuse, because I refuse to lie about this." With that, she walks away from her fuming husband.

A little less than a year passed, with Amelie being kept at very limited interaction with Overwatch members. She continued to hardly leave her home, biding her time with personal research, reading, painting, playing the piano, the violin. Depression grew upon her, and slowly she stopped everything. She barely ate, she barely talked to even Gerard, and often she'd contemplate her own suicide.

It was on the night of her 24th birthday that Gerard took her out to the most expensive restaurant in the area. She hadn't dressed up in quite a while, and it was difficult to look nice and cover her bruises at the same time.

They had a pleasant meal and pleasant conversation. It was the first time in a long time Amelie felt joy while in her husband's company. As dessert was served, Gerard raised his glass in a toast. "Amelie, I am so glad to finally be able to say these words to you."

Confused, but excited, Amelie gazed lovingly at her husband, awaiting her Happy Birthday toast. "I was promoted! I'm now in charge of the entire Talon task force!" His voice is filled with glee, and Amelie tilts her head to the side, hurt and baffled. "I'm spearheading the entire operation, Amelie! Whatever I say, goes. Commander Morrison gave me full charge!"

Her broken voice rings out of her lips, as her eyes fight back tears. "Th-that's great, darling! I'm so p-p-proud of you!"

She clinks her glass against his, then hurriedly gulping down the champagne. Gerard sees her tear-filled eyes, and his face heats up in anger. "Dear lord, woman, what is wrong with you? I just gave you good news, no...  _great_  news, and you can't be happy for me? You're own  _husband_?" His tone is hushed and angry; dark.

Fear envelops Amelie, and she whispers back to him, "I-I'm sorry Gerard... I just thought... I thought this dinner was for something else..." He glares at her, waiting to hear more. "I-It's alright... I know you're busy at work, it's normal to forget trivial things like-"

"This is about your birthday? You selfish  _witch_." His voice is deep and dark, his glare piercing her soul.

They quickly ended their meal, and quietly went back home. Not a word was spoken between the two of them for days.

Another year passed, with Talon growing tired of Gerard Lacroix's operation against them. Assassination attempts were carried out against him time and time again. Somehow, thwarted every time.

Amelie was torn between hoping for a successful attempt and fearing for her husband's life.

Until the day she was taken.

Shopping for groceries, she had just placed every last bag into her car. She clicked the button to close the trunk, and as she turned to push the hovercart's return button, she felt a prick on her neck, and her consciousness rapidly faded.

She awoke in a metal chair, in a metal room, with her limbs strapped down, her mouth gagged, and a strange helmet on her head that covered her ears.

Men after men in lab coats came in and out of the room, taking blood and electrocuting her with the helmet as strange music was played into her ears over and over again.

Soon they added a visor to the helmet, which played strange videos, accompanied by the strange music, and the torturous electrocution.

It wasn't long before the program was completed.

Amelie didn't feel like herself. She felt blank, she felt like nothing. She  _felt_  nothing. It wasn't so different from her everyday self as of late... but without the sadness, without the ache.

"Now, Amelie, what is it you desire?"

A voice calls out over the intercom, and Amelie looks up at the one-way glass that hides the identity of her captors. She knew what was going on, she had figured it out days ago. This was Talon.

Somehow though, she didn't care. For some reason, she saw no need to fight what was going on. Why should she? After years of abuse, neglect, and psychological torture? Love was lost.

"To kill Gerard Lacroix. To kill my husband."

She was drugged and left at a drop point unconscious. Talon had made sure to leave a trail of breadcrumbs for Overwatch to follow, leading them directly to Amelie.

Directly towards Talon's new Sleeper Agent.

The next two weeks were surprisingly easy for Amelie. Pretending everything was ok, that she was no different. Pretending to still be the meek girl Gerard thought he had full control over.

Overwatch had questioned her endlessly about what happened, and her sob story was genuine at first; the kidnapping, the electrocution. She left out any details that could indicate brainwashing. "They... they tortured me! They wanted to know if Gerard had any weaknesses, wanted to know his day to day schedule, when he's most vulnerable... I was terrified..."

She was consoled by everyone, and Gerard put on the grandest act he'd ever performed, rushing to her, holding her lovingly, swearing vengeance upon Talon until the day he'd die, etc.

Amelie had to force herself not to smile. It would be coming all too soon.

Then, as the two-week mark passed, Amelie awoke a few hours earlier than normal. She hummed a song as she walked to the downstair's coat closet. Smiled softly as she grabbed Gerard's pistol from his coat. She crept up the stairs, back into her bedroom, and gave one last, final kiss to her husband's cheek.

"Adieu, Cherie."

And with one pull of the trigger, her husband's sleeping form changed into a peaceful corpse.

And that was the day Amelie Lacroix died, and Widowmaker was born.


	2. The Shadow Man

Looking through her scope, Widowmaker tilts her head slightly to the right, narrowing her eyes as she stares at her target: Gabriel Reyes.

She was told to shoot on sight, she was told to go for the kill.

She continues to stare.

She remembered him still, remembered his many kind attempts at calming her-

At calming Amelie down.

She made a mental note to remember not to think of herself as the same person as before. If Talon thought for even a moment that she remembered who she was, that she could even so much as think past the necessary, she'd be back in that damned chair.

Gabriel Reyes is dressed inconspicuously, with a black hoodie, grey hat, blue jeans, and tan work boots. He sits silently on a bench in a sparsely populated park, eating a burger, his posture relaxed.

Widowmaker didn't know why she was told to kill him. She never asked questions, simply did as she was told.

Yet, staring at him through her scope, she couldn't help but feel the smallest inkling of remorse for what she was about to do.

Ah well, c'est la vie.

Exhaling, she pulls her trigger and continues to stare, to watch the body drop.

But instead, she sees something miraculous.

Gabriel Reyes had disappeared, nothing but a black shroud of mist in his previous place. Her mouth hangs slightly ajar as she watches this apparition of sorts reform, back into the body and form of Gabriel, who stares right back at her.

Fuck.

She moves quickly, her short ponytail whipping fast as she runs across the rooftop, readying her grapple to escape to another building. But, before she can engage it, a shadow appears in front of her, turning into Gabriel Reyes, who stares down at her with eyes full of grim surprise.

"Amelie? You're Widowmaker?"

She stands still, not breathing, eyes focused intently on the hard stare of the man before her. What was this? What was Talon doing?

He moves to grab her wrist, shaking his head and mumbling something, and instinctively Widowmaker backflips away, tossing a venom mine towards him as she makes a run for it.

However, she doesn't get far, as Gabriel's wraith form moves in front of her, once more reforming into his solid body. "Would you knock it off? Where's my Intel?" His expression is quizzical, and Widowmaker's matches it.

"Intel?" She responds curtly, resting her Widow's Kiss atop her shoulder as she stands more relaxed.

Gabriel smirks, "Now where's the chatty french woman I grew oh so fond of?"

Her brows furrow, annoyed at his familiar tone. "I don't believe I know you. If you're expecting Talon intel, I regret to inform you I was sent here with one mission," she makes a gun with three fingers on her left hand and mocks shooting him in the head. "I don't think Talon likes you much."

Gabriel didn't know what to think. This was definitely Amelie Lacroix. Same dark hair, same golden eyes; the only difference? Her demeanor. He wasn't as surprised as he should have been though. Always had thought there was something suspicious about Gerard's death, not that he had cared one way or another about it. Never questioned what happened to Amelie afterward, simply assumed she'd finally moved on with her life, with no abusive husband to hold her down. Guess she had, in a way.

"Well I hate to disappoint, but I was aware you'd be shooting at me. I was told to come here to meet Talon's new assassin, and get my Intel for the next phase of the plan. After what happened in London, I'm sure they have something big coming up."

Widowmaker tries her best to not look puzzled as she stands there. Was this a test to see if she'd kill him? Is he trying to trick her, to bring her back to Overwatch? What was-

"Ah, Reyes, it's good to see you."

Widowmaker turns quickly to see Akande Ogundimu, the newest Doomfist, and Talon's most recent executive member. He had climbed the ranks quickly, and Widowmaker wouldn't be surprised to see him lead the organization soon enough.

Gabriel shakes his head, "I'm guessing you didn't inform Lacroix about my team?"

Widowmaker stands silently and watches their exchange, curious.

Akande sighs, "You'll find she doesn't respond to that name, Reyes. She is Widowmaker, and you will call her as such. We're excited to get your Dr. O'Deorain's hands on her. See if she can improve upon our work."

It took every ounce of self-control for Widowmaker to stifle the shiver that nearly crept up her back.

Gabriel felt a chill in his blood as well. "So this was all for her to preview the good doctor's work?" He was angry, being used like this.

Akande chuckles, "I wanted Widowmaker to see the 'Shadow Man' for herself. When Dr. O'Deorain, as well as the rest of Blackwatch, joins our ranks, she'll be doing much work on our members."

Gabriel still wasn't sure how he felt about his newfound abilities. Moira had run so many experiments on him, he still wasn't completely sure what she had done to him. All he knew, was he was now an energy wraith of sorts, and he was feeling less and less human with every passing day.

"And what are your plans for her?" He didn't know why he felt the need to ask, she clearly didn't seem uncomfortable with the situation, standing there, watching them with a blank expression. Was the woman completely unfazed?

Musing for a moment, Akande smiles a grin that doesn't reach his eyes, "She may hide it well, but it's obvious to the trained eye that there is still an 'Amelie' trapped within. Our plans for her were always to make the perfect killing machine. Dr. O'Deorain? She delivers perfection."

Akande was watching Widowmaker the entire time, searching for a reaction, with none to be found to his horrifying words. Internally, however, she felt like throwing up. How did he know?

"She still feels things. A trait that can be detrimental in an assassin. I suppose, if given the right motivation, I could slow her heart, numb her ability to feel... well, anything suffice the thrill of a kill, should it please you."

Gabriel groans as he hears the thick Irish accent of his coworker come up from behind him. He had told her to wait back at base. But she never listened to anyone.

Widowmaker eyed the tall, thin woman, with hair like fire and the hungry eyes of a demon. She suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe, her pale skin itching underneath the woman's bi-colored stare.

"And what would the side effects be to a procedure like that? She is our most prized asset."

Moira smiles cruelly, "She'll be cold to the touch. She could, if things go wrong, lose a finger or two. I'd, of course, replace any parts necessary. She may turn purple or blue. She could always die too."

Gabriel tried his best to keep from the throttling the monstrous woman by his side. He couldn't let anything risk his plans with Talon. They were his ticket to toppling Overwatch once and for all, and finally being able to set things right.

Akande's laugh bellows out, startling all but Moira. "A true scientist I see! I trust, worst comes to worst, you'll keep our killing machine up and running." He then moves towards her, pulling out an envelope and discreetly handing it off to her, before then turning to Gabriel. "Reyes, I know you plan to keep those boys out of everything, so for their sake, and as a favor to you, I'll let you know now that we plan on executing stage 3 within the month. Now would be a good time to send them on some Blackwatch mission as the lead, with you staying behind to execute the plan. If all goes well, we should be able to complete stage 5, along with your full identity wipe, by summer's end."

Widowmaker's ears perked up through the conversation. Genji and Jesse must be the boys he is speaking of. She had already figured that Blackwatch and Talon must be in cahoots, but for Gabriel to keep his proteges out of it all? He would lose everything he loved once he fully joined the ranks. Her gaze turns to Moira. And he'll be left with her.

With a smooth shift, Moira's stare had met Widowmaker's shocking her and terrifying her all at once. The woman was a snake, and Widowmaker felt uneasy simply being in her presence, let alone the fact that it was obvious she would soon be experimenting on her.

Gabriel and Akande shake hands, and Moira gives him a curt nod before his suited figure briskly walks towards the door leading back down into the building, already a hoverlimo waiting for him on the street below.

Moira's smile never leaves her face as she looks back to Widowmaker, "I look forward to working on you." The smile twists into a full grin, before she herself transforms to mist, disappearing entirely, with no trace.

Gabriel huffs, "I'm the prototype to her finished product." He then turns to Widowmaker, making one step towards her as she stays still, watching him. "I know you're still Amelie in there, whether you like it or not. I won't be explaining this to you, I have nothing to defend. But what I will say, is I'm sorry."

Her eyes widen and she takes a step back, her Widow's Kiss instinctively pulled in front of her, ready to aim and fire in a moment's notice.

"I'm sorry for whatever Moira does to you."

And with that, he reverts to a shadow, moving swiftly through the air, and out of sight.

"My name is Widowmaker," she responds quietly, not sure if she were attempting to convince him, or herself.

~

(Hello readers! 

This chapter is another introductory chapter. They will be getting longer, I assure you.

Please Comment if you'd like to see more

Favorite the story for info on updates!

And if you'd like scheduled updates, comment a request for it and I'll see to it immediately!

Much Love! <3 )


	3. A Chilling Dream

"Why did you kill him?"

It was a question that she hadn't expected, especially from him.

Akande sat across a table from Widowmaker, hands neatly folded atop the surface as he calmly stares her down.

She stares back blankly, her white top glowing underneath the UV rays of the light in the interrogation room; the blood on her glows a soft, yet vivid green. "He was an enemy of Talon. He was eliminated."

Akande smiles, his eyes remaining dead. He watches her face for a few moments before speaking. "Widowmaker, I am aware that your brainwashing has not been perfectly cemented. I am aware that you are still 'Amelie' within. I am also aware, however, that this has not affected your capabilities as an assassin."

She couldn't be sure this wasn't a trap, a way of luring her out of hiding, only to end up back in the chair. She continues staring forward blankly.

Akande chuckles. "Ever since meeting our Blackwatch associates, you have rigorously hunted down target after target. As if... motivated?"

Still, Widowmaker's facade of the perfectly emotionless creature continues, wary of any trickery she may be encountering.

Akande shakes his head, relaxing in his seat, obtaining a more casual demeanor. "I'm sure a sharp eye like yours has already realized that I am responsible for recruiting the Blackwatch members. And I'm sure that you can already see the plan I've set in motion."

Finally, she speaks, with a slight sarcasm in her tone, "You've been discreet."

"I have no need to be," His voice darkens with the honesty of his words. "I am ambitious. And I know an asset that I may need when I see one. So here, in private, with no cameras, no microphones, I'm going to make you a deal."

Widowmaker raises a brow as her eyes narrow, studying the conniving man in front of her. "What deal?"

He sits up straight again, an air of business surrounding him. "You will undergo Dr. O'Deorain's experiments to slow down your heart rate, as it will only serve to improve your aim and thought in the midst of battle. However..." He pauses, looking her in the eyes thoughtfully. "So long as you maintain yourself... I will not have you undergo any further brainwashing."

Widowmaker laughs, a sort of bittersweet chuckle. "And just why would you do that, Doomfist?"

He wears a smile of confidence as he leans forward, his voice now low and sweet, "Because I'd rather have an operative that thinks for themselves in the field than blindly follow orders without nary a thought. You have initiative it seems, with the proper motivation."

He stands, tall and strong, and gives her a knowing look, before walking away. "Stay motivated, and I can guarantee you can keep your precious memories."

As the door shuts behind him, Widowmaker lets out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. That was a very dangerous man, and she rather liked the idea of being on his side.

She thinks back to the day on the rooftop, and back to Gabriel and Dr. O'Deorain. She didn't have to trust any of them, but to make her own alliances? She just might have a life her own again.

~

She didn't need much sleep, but even Widowmaker needed some rest. Deep in slumber, her dreams were the only times she felt like her old self once more. She would be on the stage in Paris, performing a dance solo to the most tragic of violin pieces, with light piano harmony accenting ever movement she made.

But even her dreams would turn bitter eventually, for there would be Gerard, in a box seat, noting every mistake. The longer his stare bore into her, the more the white feathers of her costume would darken, until they were black with the depression he'd envelop her in.

Her feet would become heavier with every step, until she couldn't even move, then frozen in place, a statue; Gerard's "perfect ballerina"- unmoving and unable to run away from him.

Suddenly she was in Overwatch Headquarters, a perfect statue in the center of the room. As a party went on, she tried with all her might to scream out, to ask somebody, anybody, for help. But no sound escaped her lips, as the Overwatch members continued with their celebration, and with their praise of Gerard.

Then, as the party ends, and the room remains, empty and discarded, save for Gerard and Amelie, he walks up to her frozen form, striking her hard against the cheek. As if he had shattered her stony exterior, she could finally move once more. But, from her position now on the floor, clutching her face as the stinging pain sears her cheek, she is unable to do anything but cower in fear.

"Oh, Amelie... Did you really think you could kill me?" Gerard chuckles, leaning down and offering her a hand up.

Foolishly she accepts, standing with his help, only to be forcefully grabbed by her forearms, and brought close to him. "Never forget your place!" He growls at her, shaking her body maliciously.

And it is then that Widowmaker wakes up, a cold sweat upon her as she bolts upright, breathing heavily.

She stands and stares at her single window, high up on her ceiling, casting moonlight down upon her. A spider web is carefully spun in its corner, with a Black Widow nestled in its silken confines.

She shakes her head, sighing, "Araignée du Soir, Cauchemar."

Spider in the evening, Nightmare.

There was no more hope in her life.

A knock on her door alerts her, and she walks swiftly towards it, grabbing her Talon coat to cover up her naked body. She opens it, to be greeted by the narrowed eyes of Gabriel Reyes.

"You alright?"

She sighs and beckons him entry as she walks back towards her bed, sitting elegantly on its edge, her coat opening enough to embarrass even Gabriel. "And what, exactly, made you think to come and ask?"

He averts his gaze from her exposed breasts to the skylight, the spider on the pane making him feel uneasy. "You mumble in your sleep you know... I could hear you from the hall as I was passing by. Then I heard you wake up... mumbling... Figured I should ask."

She'd have to make a mental note to force herself to stay silent as she slept. If anyone within Talon heard her, she'd lose her precious deal. She rolls her eyes in response to Gabriel, "Spying on me?"

And to her surprise, he laughs.

"Heh, no offense, but I have better things to do. My whole adult life has been spent active duty of some sort. You tend to develop a good sense of hearing."

He watches her face as she almost pouts, staring at the ground, cross-armed. "What was I mumbling? In my sleep..."

He shrugs his shoulders, "It was all French, I wouldn't know. I just heard Gerard's name... figured I should check up on you." He watches her more, waiting for her to say something, anything. He'd asked more about her after their meeting on the roof, as discreetly as he could. She had killed Gerard, she had been completely brainwashed... or at least partially. She went from abused housewife to trained assassin... and he didn't know whether to feel sorry for her or cheer her on from the sidelines. Still, she remains motionless, eyes trained on the floor. "We all knew, you know. Or least... we suspected. Never any proof, but... well you can't cover bruises that dark."

Then, quick as lightning, her golden eyes snap to meet his dark ones. Her stern expression sends a chill through him as she parts her lips to speak. "I never needed saving, and I don't now. You'd do well to keep your Black Dog nose out of my business."

And with that, she stands, placing what looks to be a dainty hand on his shoulder, yet pushing with a strength and force he could and would never understand out of her room. "Bonsoir, Chien noir," She bitterly bids as she closes the door. 

Looking at her clock, she sighs at the time. She'd only been asleep 3 hours.

Ah, well... she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep now anyway. Might as well clean her Widow's Kiss.

~

Gabriel shuffled his feet as he walked down the hall, guilt filling him in an unfamiliar way. What did he have to feel guilty for? For bringing anything up? For checking in on her? For never saving her before?

He shakes his head in an attempt to remove that lingering thought. He had only come here to assist Moira in a demonstration of her wraith genetics program. Him being her precious "prototype", and herself, a "finished product". It was degrading.

There had been many volunteers before him, wanting to help her test her wraith genetics experiment. He'd been the only one to survive the mutation process. He was half convinced it was because of the drugs he and Morrison had injected into them long ago in their military days.

Just thinking about that woman experimenting on Amelie... no, on Widowmaker, made him feel nervous. It's clear she's already experienced some experiments, but to be subjected to more? At what point does a person break?

But he had to push on with this crusade.

He had to continue, to fix his mistake.

~

Unbeknownst to the both of them, though, Doctor Moira O'Deorain had witnessed their interaction. A small nano-camera on Gabriel was always worth the effort, she thought at least.

She didn't know quite what she had at her disposal, but she knew it was certainly something to keep her eyes on.

~


	4. Bump In The Night

With every successful snipe, came more attention from Overwatch. But they never seemed to worry much about Widowmaker's existence... not when they considered their sniper the best in the world.

It wasn't until a hostage situation in China occurred, that she was truly able to prove herself superior.

The scientists had information that Talon wanted. However, Widowmaker always suspected it was really Moira that wanted their research. Widowmaker had been tasked to counter-snipe Ana Amari... a task she had not looked forward to. If given the opportunity, that woman would have killed her. And she had been expected to do the same.

She had known, as the fateful bullet had flown through the air from her Widow's Kiss, that the shot was not fatal... she didn't know why everyone seemed to think Ana was dead. She wasn't about to correct them though.

~

Widowmaker sits atop the tallest skyscraper in all of Spain, the thin oxygen levels not a bother to her, ever since Moira's experiment. Her glance glazes over her now blue skin, she didn't know what to think of it. She stares at her reflection in the polished exterior of the skyscraper, the now dark sky and her discolored flesh blending together, as if a part of the same tapestry. She had always been revered as a beauty, her entire life. She was now strange, different. A bitter smirk flutters against her lips, Gerard would despise her new appearance.

With her grapple line wrapped around her waist, she continues to lazily sit, now staring down her scope at the hundreds of people below her. Her trigger finger yearns to press down, a hunger that she once feared. Whether Akande had intended for it to happen or not, Moira's experiment had taken a certain layer of self away from Widowmaker. She craves to feel something, anything. Pines for any semblance of emotion that she had desperately clung to throughout the wretched times she found herself in.

*Widowmaker - REPORT*

The sharp command wretches her from her musings and she sighs, changing her positioning, hanging upside down, with her body leaning casually against the building. "Widowmaker here," she responds, bored out of her skull, and almost eager for a mission.

*Retrieval Requested. Agent REAPER. Overwatch Switzerland Headquarters.*

Reaper? She had never heard of this agent before. And in the Overwatch Headquarters?

Her mind was swimming with possibilities as she quickly releases her grapple, only to send it flying upwards as soon as it had fully retracted. The claws attach easily to the reflecting surface of her dual-passenger mini-jet. As an assassin, she was expected to stay covert and quick.

It wouldn't be long before she'd be in Switzerland.

~

At the sight of the fire and mayhem before her, Widowmaker's eyes widen slightly. The entirety of the once esteemed Headquarters was in a flaming ruin, a large crater in the center, with melted steel bubbling on the Earth's surface within. Where was she expected to find this Agent Reaper?

Maintaining her jet's camouflage and hover, she gets out on top of it, activating her new visor as she stares down at the chaos below. Charred bodies cover the landscape, with the few still living among the wreckage trying desperately to find one another and get to safety. She almost didn't notice what she was looking for.

Almost.

Creeping out of the crater, and slowly moving towards the Alpine forest beyond, she could see a collection of shadows moving.

Gabriel.

No... 

Reaper.

She quickly lands her jet, and as she peers through the woods, she sees the badly burnt and bleeding body of Reaper, curled up against the ground.

His skin is pale, unlike its usual caramel complexion. His eyes are red, practically glowing as his teeth clench, seething in his pain as he clutches his ribs.

A cold sweat runs through Widowmaker at the sight of him. She felt... well she felt. It was something she was starting to forget and yet... here it was.

Reaper looks up at her as she makes her way too him, his vision blurred, his breathing labored. He hadn't expected that explosion. He didn't know what it was, but he didn't feel right. Something was gravely wrong.

He stares up into the golden eyes of Widowmaker, a look of concern actually showing on her face. A vexatious chuckle gasps from his lungs and he leans back against the solid pine tree behind him. "They sent you?"

She huffs and kneels down beside him, checking his wounds. His black mist billows out of every bloody orifice, his now pale skin covered in blood and black. "What happened to you?" She barely whispers, trying her best to figure out what to do. "Where is Dr. O'Deorain?"

Another laugh escapes Reaper as he weakly shakes his head. "Please. She knew about all of this, I'm sure. She's probably sipping tea back at Talon Headquarters while she and Doomfist laugh at my predicament."

He was almost certain he was going to die here. He could feel his fingers, toes, and lips going numb with the blood loss he was sustaining. Ah well... not a bad way to go. Overwatch has surely fallen, there's no way the United Nations would allow this fraudulent organization to continue now.

Widowmaker rolls her eyes and tries her best to help the large man up, knowing it was all up to her to get him to safety. Why did Talon send her to fetch him? It didn't make any sense, especially considering Reaper's injuries.

As his weight bears down on her, she begins to walk him towards her ship. 

And then a rustle is heard in the distance.

It gets closer and closer, hurried and frantic. Heavy breathing is heard, heaving breaths filled with panic and confusion.

A young man comes bursting through the foliage, sweat dripping from his brow, his labored panting loud and unsteady. He stops at the sight of them, frozen in fear.

Widowmaker growls lightly in aggravation, she didn't have time to be killing anyone right now.

She goes to release a venom mine, but as her arm raises, Reaper suddenly dashes towards the young man, his shadows forming in his fists, taking the shape of two guns. He snarls and shoots the man 8 times in the gut. With every shot, the man's body slowly pales, and dries, until his corpse looks like nothing but a lifeless, empty husk of a human.

Widowmaker releases a breath she hadn't known she was holding, and moves cautiously towards Reaper, placing a hand on his shoulder gingerly. He swivels around fast, his eyes terrifying, his wounds healed.

He felt good. He felt strong.

He tosses his shadow shotguns to the ground, and after a few moments, they dissipate into nothing but dark swirls in the air. He laughs again, this time with strength and cruelty. "What's wrong, Widowmaker? You look like you've seen a ghost."

With that he saunters off towards her jet, leaving a flummoxed Widowmaker standing in the woods, staring off after him. That certainly wasn't Gabriel Reyes.

"Reaper..." She whispers to herself, mind racing.

What have we become?


	5. A Present

Here and now

A gift

Offered up on a platter

~

"Reaper, would you mind explaining to the board why you're refusing to participate in the manhunt?"

Akande's voice sounds highly amused as if he's relishing every second of this meeting.

Reaper rolls his eyes from behind his mask. Not too shabby a job either. He always did love making costumes... not that he'd ever let anyone here know that...

"Your manhunt has members of my old team on it."

Akande chuckles, "I did not take you for a man of nostalgia." 

Reaper takes a menacing step forward, "And here it seems you're exactly the fool I took you for." He crosses his arms, and snarls, "They'll know it's me the second they see my shadows."

Moira, who had been standing in the corner quietly observing, clears her throat. "As much as it pains me to agree with my temperamental co-worker, he is correct. Genji is a cybernetic ninja trained his entire life by the Shimada clan. I need not remind you that we have been trying to recruit his elder brother ever since my recommendation. They are highly skilled, those brothers."

Maximilien shakes his head lightly, "So don't go after your team, go after the others."

Moira steps in, with one quick stride. "Most would recognize his shadows. A necessary evil to ensure the product be perfected."

Reaper hated that, how casual it was for that accursed woman to talk about him like a guinea pig. Did she have no qualms? No line she won't cross for the sake of science.

"However, the answer is staring us right in the face."

Moira gestures towards a darkened corner of the room, where out of the shadows steps Widowmaker, who had apparently been standing their all the while.

Moira fades over to her, and moves her arms around Widowmaker's figure as if presenting her to all in the room. "She's my latest accomplishment. Surely she could wipe out every Overwatch operative alone."

Suddenly hushed murmurs go through the room: Ana Amari's reported death, the assassination of over 60% of Talon's Black Book, as well as her ability to further along any espionage required.

Widowmaker was looking like a valid option.

Moira's eyes dart to the side, a sly grin on her face as she makes eye contact with Reaper, despite his masked face. "I would love to see how my latest creation fares against the younger Shimada."

"Ah, but what of the young western boy? Jesse, I believe?" Akande asks, his eyes still filled with mirth, his voice still warm with delight

"McCree..." Reaper corrects, a hard edge to his gravelly voice. 

Moira almost laughs, "He may be a sharpshooter, but he has a moral compass that was beaten into him by a superior playing house." Hands clenched into fists at his side immediately; Reaper couldn't believe the gall of this woman. "He wouldn't try to kill Widowmaker... not if she puts on a good act."

As if being given a cue, Widowmaker's face contorts into fear, her breathing becoming shallow, her body shaking. A small, quivering voice escapes her parted lips, "I-I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I can't do this, I can't kill you... You worked with my husband! You... Please, Jesse... Please help me!"

Reaper's breath catches in his throat. She was Amelie... but... 

As quickly as the facade had come, it falls, her face once more expressionless. Moira gives a curt bow, and Widowmaker copies her. "I've taught her to use not only her gun as a weapon."

She was offering her up like a steak.

Reaper tries to imagine what would happen if Widowmaker behaved that way towards McCree...

That brat would fall for it in an instant.

"He'd never fall for that. He's more the shoot first, ask questions later, kind of cowboy," Reaper interjects, sarcasm dripping from his gritty voice.

Now Moira's smile has spread into a full grin. A terrifying sight.

"Perhaps you should partner together. I'm sure the results would prove rewarding." Her thick Irish accent practically purred out the words.

"I agree." And Akande's voice rings out, sealing their fate. "But let's alter this arrangement slightly."

Reaper's ears perk, and Akande gives out a sinister recommendation: "Let's capture those boys instead. Perhaps they'll follow in their role model's footsteps."

No no no no no ... Reaper thinks to himself, body rigid with panic. He specifically left them out of his plans, he didn't want this for them. He'd kept tabs on them all the while, and he knew they were finding themselves again, outside of Blackwatch and the identity a life like that creates for someone.

Talon would destroy what part of their souls they had regained.

But alas, all in the room agreed with the suggestion, and it was only then, as Moira and Akande shared a knowing glance, that Reaper realized it'd all been set up this way. The praises Moira had sung about them, even goading Reaper into talking up Jesse; this was a planned development, and he had once again fallen prey to that witch's manipulations.

All he could do was hope and pray that his old students knew better than to get caught.


	6. Masks

The two assassins sit within the confines of a sleek jet, their seats facing one another. Widowmaker sits poised, regal; her face is unmoving, her body unflinching. Reaper is hunched over, his mask hiding the panicked expression on his face. They were off towards the Nepalese Omnic Temple, and he was sure they would find Genji there.

He'd never forget the day he first saw him.

Blackwatch had received an anonymous tip on the Shimada Clan's illegal dealings, and they were striking a raid on the grounds. Just as they had arrived, they witnessed the elder brother cut down his younger sibling; all of the Blackwatch had witnessed Hanzo Shimada's betrayal. But it was only Gabriel who caught his eyes, who had knowingly glanced at the Commander. Gabriel then knew it was Hanzo who had called in the anonymous tip, and while he didn't know why he had attempted to murder his brother, he did know that he was being forced to by this backward clan. Moira had tended to Genji's wounds the best she could as Gabriel ordered Jesse to grab an emergency pod from the Helicarrier. They managed to save Genji, and with the combined efforts of Moira and Dr. Angela Ziegler, they were able to rebuild his body, despite the vital organs that had been slashed by Hanzo. But Gabriel knew, the Shimada's were assassins, bred to murder under the coat of night. Overwatch released a press coverage on the death of Genji Shimada, and Gabriel took him into his makeshift Blackwatch family, his identity and life never being revealed to the outside world again. A nameless cybernetic ninja if ever seen by any other.

After the fall of Overwatch, he had found a new home for himself, and Reaper couldn't be happier than the angsty youth he remembered had found a sense of inner peace.

A peace that he was now having to destroy.

Widowmaker watched her comrade's body language shift irritably in his seat, and she forced a smirk from dawning upon her face. He was frightened for Genji.

She herself was irritated, not understanding why she was on this mission if she wasn't allowed to kill the cyborg. She remembered his temper well from her times meeting him. He was usually silent but was often in a much better mood when around McCree, that flighty girl, Cadet Oxton, and Dr. Ziegler, who he very obviously had a crush on. No, she couldn't quite figure out why she was being brought along on this mission. Was it simply to unnerve Reaper even more? Or, perhaps, to keep an eye on him?

She eyes his body once more, his foot nervously tapping on the carpeted floor of the luxury jet. Silently, she stands, and Reaper's gaze from behind his mask follows her as she steps towards him. She bends down, ever so elegantly, and in one swift motion removes his mask from his face, revealing the pale, ghostly remains of Gabriel Reyes sweet face. The surprised expression she had revealed quickly darkened into anger and his arms lunged forward to retrieve his mask. But, alas, he was easily outmaneuvered, and Widowmaker carelessly tossed the mask far aside. Her brows furrow as she eyes Reaper, who glares at her in his hatred, teeth clenched together.

"You need to calm down." It was a simple sentence, but it carried a worry she would not dare reveal further. Reaper recognized her tone, the tone of Amelie, and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his flared nostrils to release his tension. "There. Better?" Her accent betrayed her annoyance at his obvious mental anguish and Reaper chuckled.

"Worrying about me, Lacroix?" He shakes his head and stands, eyes meeting hers as he smirks the smile she herself had held back before. "I'll be fine." He tilts his head. "Just don't kill the kid." He turns to go and retrieve his mask, missing as Widowmaker's eyes display a surprise at seeing Gabriel Reyes beneath the Reaper facade.

How was he so easily able to switch back and forth between himself? How did he not get scared at revealing too much? And why was he so calm in doing so around her? She didn't dare reveal her own true self to him much, she couldn't. She had long felt that once the dam was broken she would never be able to keep herself together again.

As Reaper turns, mask in hand, his eyes soften as he glimpses Widowmaker staring hard at nothing, mind racing to herself. She's lost in thought and he steals his moment, stepping to her, moving his hand under her chin to guide her gaze to him. "Akande's revealed a lot to Moira and me recently," Reaper tells her quietly, his rugged voice mellow and calming. "I get the sense he's setting us all up for something big, and he and Moira are planning it together, and they're using you and I like pawns."

Unable to hold back her tongue, she whispers back, "What has he revealed?"

Her interruption makes Reaper smile, and he bends down just so, keeping their eyes level with one another. "I know about your deal." Her eyes widen in confession and he nods his head. "I think you and I will work together a lot better if we stop pretending around each other. Deal?" He moves a hand out between the two of them to shake on it, and Widowmaker places her small hand against his large one, sealing their own deal. The release one another and step back from each other, Reaper keeping his mask off and Widowmaker allowing her emotions to read easier on her face. A curtain had just dropped for the two of them, and it felt exhilarating.

Reaper laughs, "Finally, I feel like I have an upper hand on Moira and Doomfist." He shakes his head. "They've been in secret cahoots running things for far too long."

Widowmaker lets out a bitter chuckle as well. "They're certainly rampant with power. It does feel good to have a real... ally, I suppose."

Like air out of a balloon, the tension in both of their bodies releases, and they feel relaxed for the first time in a long time. But far too soon, and the jet lands.

Fast as a shadow against the light Reaper dons his mask and hood, Hellfire Shotguns forming in his hands. Quick, like a spider on dewy web, Widowmaker snatches her Widow's Kiss, standing at the ready to depart into the icy cold mountain village to see a certain cyborg.

~~

Moira listens and watches intently to the hushed conversation between Reaper and Amelie, a grin on her face all the while. This was unexpected. Surely, the two of them couldn't be bonding? Akande would have quite the entertaining run at them if she told him this. But "if" was such a pretty word.

She glances through the dossiers of the Talon cadets once more, looking for a new member to round out the team still. Reaper was right, of course, his soldier's instincts right on the mark as usual. She and Akande were planning something for the four of them, a team that would rival anything needed for the success of Talon.

Moira's eyes glance at a picture of a Hispanic girl with eyes full of mean curiosity, hair cut short, and cybernetics personally adjusted into her body. Oh she would do nicely.

~~

HI GUYS!

Don't know if you can feel it or not, but I'm building to something here!


End file.
